


maybe we will

by thecoloursneverfade



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, But whatever, Fluff, M/M, awkward first date, like hardly any, stupid boys pining, very slight captain america: cw spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoloursneverfade/pseuds/thecoloursneverfade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a boy who comes into the coffee shop with charcoal smudges on his arms and paint all over his shirt. Louis –– with his abundance of natural charm and charisma –– is certain that befriending him will lead straight to a relationship. Of course that doesn't happen. Asking him out should <i>not</i> be this difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe we will

**Author's Note:**

> Helloo!
> 
> I don't know what this is. I wrote it in two days after I got some real life inspiration that I didn't ask for (and apparently, I have zero self-control and HAD to write it) so I hope that it's somewhat as fun and enjoyable to read as it was to write!
> 
> find me here: [tumblr](https://thecoloursneverfade.tumblr.com)

Louis trips over carrying a box of paper Starbucks cups the first time he talks to Harry. 

He knows his name already, of course. He doesn’t  _think_ it's creepy that he knows, considering he found out in quite a normal way. The first time Harry came into Starbucks, Louis almost gave himself third degree burns when he was making someone else’s order, and Niall (the bastard) got to serve the pretty boy with the curls and the sketchbook tucked under his arm. Louis spent the next five minutes  _super_ _casually_ trying to catch the name that Niall had messily scrawled onto the cup, but with no such luck. 

He eventually just had to wait for Niall to call his name out, and Harry didn’t even move at first, his head was down in his sketchbook, a dark smear of charcoal along his arm where the sleeves of his flannel shirt were pushed up. From where Louis was standing, he could see the plains of his back shifting as he drew, taking in the scene around him. He’s definitely an art major, Louis had concluded.

Harry's shirt was so unfairly thin as well, Louis could see where the curves of his biceps were hugged by the fabric. He was so lost, he didn’t even hear Niall ask him to take Harry's drink to him, so he went and did it himself, and that night, Louis lay awake trying to pinpoint what his purpose was in life, when pretty boys that he see's for ten minutes are all he can think about for the following eight hours of the day.  

The second time Harry came in, Louis was just finishing up from his break and Greg was serving him at the till. Louis almost cursed out loud as he hurried back behind the counter, nearly tripping on his own feet to get there. Harry didn’t look at him once, but he was wearing a different flannel this time, specked in dried paint, unbuttoned half-way down his chest covered in a smear of tattoo's. Louis couldn’t catch his breath for the rest of the day. 

It went like that every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday for two weeks, though Louis never got be his barista, and Harry never looked up from his sketchbook. He would just come in, order an iced coffee, sit in the seat by the window and smear black marks onto the page with his finger. 

It was only in the second week that Louis actually managed to get Harry to look at him, which – that may have had something to do with how loudly Louis called out someone's name, entirely for the end goal of seeing Harry jump a little at the volume and look at Louis who was trying his best to look effortlessly attractive where he stood. He isn't sure if it worked, because when he looked back at Harry's seat, he was gone.  

Today though, it's finally happened. He's gotten Harry's attention and it wasn't even intentional. 

He's carrying a piled up box of cups towards the storage room at the back of the shop, spinning around from a conversation with Niall, when he knocks straight into something solid. 

"Shit!" Louis shouts instinctually, the box tumbling out of his hands, paper cups everywhere.  

"I –– shit, I'm so sorry!" Harry says, immediately dropping to his knees to help pick them up. 

Louis freezes as soon as he realises that it's him. Of course this is how it happens. He has to physically stop himself from doing a fist pump into the air and drops to his knees instead, catching the pink that spreads across Harry's cheeks, but he's grinning about something (probably his own clumsiness) and there are dimples there and well – fuck dimples. Honestly.  

"Um, thanks," Louis says, his throat suddenly incredibly dry. "It's fine though, I should have been looking." 

Harry shakes his head. "No, it was me, I have these sad excuses for legs, they're still learning how to work properly." 

Louis won't lie, hearing Harry refer to his glorious legs as their own beings really does something to him. He chokes a laugh. "Well, they seem to be doing pretty well to me." 

Harry smiles down at the cups he's scooping up in his hands. Louis tries to refrain from starring too long and notices Harrys sketchbook off to the side of him and picks it up, along with the rest of the cups. He piles them back into the box and sets it on a table when they stand up, and hands Harry his book. 

"Oh, thanks." Harry says, smiling at Louis with those big green eyes. Ugh. Fuck him, seriously. 

"You're always drawing in that thing." Louis points out lamely. 

"Well. It's a sketchbook. That's the purpose." 

Louis rolls his eyes. "Alright, smart guy." 

Harry giggles. "Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way, um. I guess there's a nice atmosphere in here, for drawing? Certain places put me in a good headspace I guess. I don’t know. Probably sounded really pretentious just then," 

"I don’t think you sound pretentious." 

"Oh?" Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head for confirmation. "I just... I like to try different places to sketch and this is it at the moment." 

"That's cool." 

"Thanks," Harry says, lips stretching into a wide grin. "I'm Harry." 

 _Ugh_.  _I know._  

Louis offers a smile back, despite how already smitten he is, he keeps it together somehow. "Louis." 

. . . 

In the next hour that passes, Louis realises that the mysterious artsy boy he’s been hopelessly trying to flirt with for two weeks is, in fact, a massive dork. And he's annoyed, because somehow that bit of information just makes him even more attractive.  

They're sitting on the floor of the storage room after Harry offered to help put away the cups that they just recovered from the ground, but they've long since finished doing that, and Louis is definitely not doing his job but the problem is that Harry enjoys talking a lot, and he has the best voice in the world, and Louis can definitely see himself listening to him talk late into the night, in their bed, preferably naked. 

But. Anyway, it's been an hour spent on the storage room floor, playing with green straws and plastic lids, and learning everything about each other, because Louis stated early on how fucking nosy he is so there's no room left to be surprised by his invasive questions.  

Some of Louis' earlier assumptions were correct, like Harry being an art major. He said he's covered in paint all the time because he's always in his studio, the coffee breaks are apparently the only times he ever goes out, but he contradicted that statement by saying he goes to the gym every Saturday. 

" _Just_ when I was starting to like you," Louis says with mock-offence. 

" _Hey,"_ Harry laughs. "Stereotyping." 

"Never."  

Harry looks amused. "Also – are you saying you like me?" 

"Never." Louis says again. 

Harry giggles again (Louis swears he is going to die) and he brushes a hand through his hair, shaking it out for accurate dishevelment or something. "Shouldn’t you be working?" 

Louis grins and glances towards the closed door to the storage room. "I should be, yeah. Oh well." 

Harry crosses his outstretched legs alongside Louis', making some weird creature out of the straws he's accumulated. "So Louis, what do you like to do?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Besides work and hanging out with your friends and sisters, what else do you like to do? If we're doing this whole: 'I tell you my life story, you tell me yours' thing." 

"That’s about it really," Louis says with a small laugh. "Going to work here 'til I'm old, save up enough and go somewhere." 

"Where?" 

Louis shrugs. "Dunno. Don't you ever just want to get a boat and sail off the edge of the earth?" 

"Yeah but you need permits and things for that." 

Louis frowns. "Not even if it's ' _the pirates life for me'_?" 

Harry's lips quirk upwards. "Especially not then, probably." 

Louis full-on pouts now. "I've known you an hour and you're already holding me back from my dreams. What the fuck, Harry." 

Harry grins down at his hands, and whatever he's crafting out of the straws. "That's life, kid." 

"I'm pretty sure I'm older than you." 

"The statement stands either way," Harry looks at him. "How old?" 

Louis considers saying something outrageous like fifty-seven, but decides against it at the last minute. "Twenty-three." 

Harry makes a face. "Yikes. Hello grandpa." 

Louis half-heartedly flips him off. "You're hilarious. What about you then?" 

"Twenty-one." 

"Christ. You're practically a toddler, I could be your  _father._ " 

"Ha-ha." 

The door swings open then, and they fall into silence. Niall stares down at them for a few seconds, eyes flicking between them, and gazing questioningly at Louis. Then he just shrugs and steps over their legs to grab some lids off of the shelf, and then he disappears out the door again. 

Harry breathes a laugh and pushes himself to his feet. "I should probably go," 

"Right," Louis says, and gets to his feet as well. "I should probably be working." 

"Probably." Harry grins. 

Louis looks at him, a full smirk playing on his lips. "Sorry to keep you from your painting and dream-crushing."

"Give me your number and I'll consider forgiving you." Harry says immediately. 

Louis raises his eyebrows and grabs a marker and paper cup from the shelf next to him, quickly jotting down his number and handing it to Harry. Harry trades it for the straws he was playing with, which Louis now notices has been somehow crafted into a sculpture of a rose.  

"See you later, Louis!" Harry calls as he leaves.  

Louis is too stunned to remember to say anything back, and he spends the rest of his shift smiling like an idiot, before noticing Harry didn’t even buy anything. He feels a little guilty after that.  

. . . 

Harry shakes the water from his hair, rain pelting down outside so hard that Louis is sure Harry is the only one crazy enough to brave the storm just for a cup of coffee. The sky is dark greys and purples, thunder rumbles the world, a flash of lightning bounces white light off of the windows, and reflects off of Harry's eyes when he turns to glance behind him at the sound. He shakes off his trench coat and leaves it on one of the benches before making his way over to Louis.  

The café is empty aside from them, and Louis is sitting on one of the couches nursing a cup of tea. His feet are up on a seat in front of him, positioned directly under the heater above the wall. Harry flops himself down on the couch, his head falling onto Louis' lap, closing his eyes and breathing deep, intertwining his hands across his stomach. 

"Hey," Louis says, smiling down at Harry as if he’s still breathing normally.  

"Hey," Harry says back. He opens one eye to look at Louis, his lips twist into a smirk. "What?" 

"Nothing. Your hair's wet." 

Harry closes his eyes again, smiling. He runs a hand through his damp hair, his fingers grazing against Louis' upper thigh. They sit like that for a while, because Louis loses himself listening to Harry's soft breathing and feeling the weight of him against his legs, he almost forgets what he's doing. Here. On this planet. Whatever.  

"Do you want a drink or something?" Louis asks. 

"Hm?" Harry opens his eyes again, possibly distracted from dozing off. 

"Never mind." Louis says, not really wanting Harry to move. He looks peaceful.  

"Alright," Harry mumbles and lets his eyes slip closed again. 

Louis smiles, sipping his tea. It's been a good month. 

He can't get over how strange that is though. One month, and there's this sudden presence, that’s so warm and so easy and Louis suddenly forgets how to breathe. Because there's Harry and his quiet concentration when he looks down at his sketchbook, his careful eyes when he listens, and Louis doesn’t think he's ever been so quickly lost in someone. He's never desired to make someone happy as much as he does with Harry, or tell him so much so soon. Louis wants to confess everything to Harry – the toys he stole from Niall when they were kids, the time he accidentally lost his sisters pet hamster and blamed it on someone else, his first crush, the contents of his childhood diary.  

It's astounding really, because everything is so startlingly different with Harry, and Louis, in all honestly, doesn’t know what to do about it. He gets nervous in all the right ways, like he's stepped back a few years or something. He doesn’t know how to act around him, and Harry is such a cuddle-bug. Louis is in hell.  

It's not like Harry comes in  _every_ day, but Louis definitely believes it's become more frequent. When he does, he sits at his table and sketches, and when things aren't so busy, Niall or Greg will let Louis sit with him and they talk an astounding amount of nothing –– "What are your other dreams, Lou?" Harry asked one stormy evening, sharing a cup of tea between them, pressed together on the couch. "I want to change the world." Louis replied, because he's got ambitions, of course. Though, whether or not that was actually true, he doesn’t know. Can making coffee change the world? Maybe. Harry seems to think it can. –– It's alarming really, how quickly they fell together. Louis closes his eyes like Harry does, listens to the rain and Harry's breathing.  

"Don't fall asleep and drop that tea on me." Harry says softly.  

Louis opens his eyes and Harry is looking at him serenely. "I wasn't going to." 

"I don't trust you though." 

"That's probably a good idea," Louis says, watching Harry close his eyes again. He has bright pink paint on his hands, Louis runs his fingers over them before he knows what he's doing. Harry just giggles. 

"That tickles." Harry grins, shuddering against Louis. 

"Sorry." Louis says, grinning back even though Harry can't see. 

Louis pulls his hand away and rests it back around his warm cup of tea, and they simply exist in the quiet. Rain falling down outside, heavy grey clouds making it feel less like midday and more like nighttime, but it's nice. When Harry might have actually drifted off to sleep, Louis finally feels like he can breathe again.  

. . . 

On a cold Monday, after the morning rush, Louis is sitting beside Harry while he sketches something outside, knees pulled up in front of him, watching Harry's fingers move over the paper. 

"s' like water, see?" Harry says, pointing to something on his paper. 

"Yeah," Louis says. He doesn’t have a clue what he's talking about, he knows nothing about art. Looks like a black smudge to him. "Hey, so tell me why you like art so much." 

Harry looks at him like he's just asked him to murder his entire family. " _You_ tell me why you don’t want to study and maybe I'll tackle that god-awful question." 

Louis shrugs, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully. "I don’t think it works for everyone. If I'm going to find my ' _calling_ ' I'm not going to find it sifting through degree after degree and ultimately hating myself because I'm being surrounded by people who I'm constantly being compared to, s' like, I can do that on my own, thanks." 

"Fair enough," Harry says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I guess it's like, your student years are always portrayed as if they're some pinnacle moment in your life, when it's really not like that for everyone. I just happen to really like creating shit that does  _something_ for someone, or the fact that I can mean something at all. I don’t know. I don’t know why I like it so much, I guess I just  _do,_ I think that's enough." 

"Ugh, pretentious." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "I will literally hit you." 

"You wouldn’t  _dare._ Then who would bother you when you're trying to focus on your work?" 

"I'll move on to Niall." 

Louis frowns. "Fuck. Niall's great. I can't compete with Niall." 

Harry laughs, taking his charcoal smudged finger and reaching over to take Louis' hand in his own, casually painting a heart on the back of it. 

"I like that though," Louis says, struggling to breathe. 

"What? My new relationship with Niall?" Harry asks, finger still following the shape on his hand. 

Louis shakes his head. "No," he says. "Wanting to mean something. I think it's good. It's a good reason." 

Harry smiles a sort of soft, self-satisfied smile, and Louis is essentially a lost cause for the rest of the day. He like's Harry a lot, a lot. And it's becoming a real problem. 

. . . 

Yeah. Louis definitely has a slight conundrum. 

See. The thing is. The infatuation he had with Harry since he first laid eyes on him has escalated into a full blown crush after over a month of being the focus of Harry's golden attention. It's in everything Harry does, and it's driving him crazy. Because every time Louis wants to reach forward and touch Harry's face, the shadowed parts and the parts in the pale gold sun, stroke back his hair and kiss him silly, he's brought back to earth, reminding himself that he can't do that because he has very little idea of where Harry's preferences lie.  

The more he thinks about it, the more he realises he doesn’t know anything about Harry's past – or, fuck –  _present_ – relationships. He doesn’t know the kind of people Harry hangs out with because this boy is a literal angel and there's no way it's just Louis. 

They've never even seen each other outside of Starbucks, despite everything, and Louis is already inappropriately thinking about the house they'll own when they're older and how many dogs they'll have. He has to look away when Harry wears one of those stupidly thin shirts that barely covers his chest, and when they share a frappuccino and Harry leans in to sip out of the straw, Louis isn't able to see straight for the rest of the day. It's things like that, and everything else that's causing Louis to worry for the rest of their friendship, because this really isn't working for him.  

It's a very major dilemma and to top it all off, his friends are the worst people on the planet. 

"Just ask him," Niall says one night on the couch in his flat. He's got a beer in one hand and no shirt on. Louis doesn’t know why, it's fucking freezing. Niall's supposed to be 'revising' for a music assignment though Louis doesn’t even know what a music major does besides what he see's Niall doing with most of his time: lying on his back and strumming the  _Friends_ theme song on his guitar. 

" _You_ ask him," Louis responds grimly, as if that isn't the worst thing he's ever heard. 

Niall gives him a look. "Don’t joke about that, you know I will." 

Perrie interrupts them when she opens the front door carrying a couple of boxes of pizza. At least the more helpful flatmate has made an appearance. 

"Thank god you're here, Lou is having a crisis," Niall says when she sets the pizza down on the coffee table and sits on the ground with them, pushing one of Niall's textbooks towards him with her foot. 

"A Harry crisis?" Perrie asks. 

Of course, she's heard all about Harry. Of course, he didn’t have much of a choice after the first time he spoke to Harry, and Niall spent the entire night asking him what he was doing in the storage room with the "sexy artist boy." However, it only got worse as time went on, and now he's sure Niall wishes he would shut up about Harry. But oh well, it's far too late for that. 

"Precisely." Niall says.

"Why don’t you just ask him if he's into you?" Perrie supplies, unhelpfully. 

Louis groans. "I need new friends." 

"That's not very nice, Lou," Niall says, but looks more interested in his phone than this actual conversation. "Besides, I'm sure no one, aside from us, would hang around you for that long if they weren't looking to fuck." 

"Wow thanks," 

"Joking. But you  _should_ just ask," 

"Or," Louis sits up straighter, a metaphorical light bulb flashing above his head. "We could conduct a covert mission to see if he's straight. Pez, you could, you know... give me a hand?" 

Perrie squints at him suspiciously. "Do I even want to know where this is going?" 

"Like, work your magic on him," Louis says. "Just come hang out, flick your hair around, whatever. If he's straight well then that’s that." 

Perrie looks truly scandalized.  _"I'm_ not even straight, and why would I flirt with your love interest for you?" 

"Did you just call him my love interest?" 

She waves a hand in front of his face. "Okay, and what if – and this is a big  _if –_  he's straight, and your weird, and possibly offensive, plan happens to work. What do I do then?" 

Louis doesn’t really want to even think of that as a possibility, but for the sake of this... experiment, he needs to consider all scenarios. "Well, for one, you could shoot me in the face because life wouldn’t be worth living––" 

"Oh  _brother,_ " 

"––but you'd just have to tell him he got the wrong idea. Don’t hurt his feelings though, he's too lovely for that." 

Perrie raises her eyebrows. "Well aren't you just considerate." 

"I am – wait, are you actually going to do this?" 

Perrie sighs, long-suffering. "I  _guess._ Because you're my friend, but I definitely hate you, don't get me wrong." 

Louis smiles, hoping this will gain him  _something_ on the Harry Situation. His friends are alright, he supposes. 

. . . 

It's 11AM when Perrie comes to the café. Harry is sitting up at the counter talking to Louis about getting repairs done on his car (Louis couldn’t really care less about cars, but Harry makes everything sound like he's listening to the secrets of the universe) and he doesn’t notice the door chiming until Louis waves at her, as if Louis has never interacted with any of the other patrons before except for him. 

"Hi, Lou!" Perrie says, waving her hand with a bag she's carrying. "I finished up early and we had a bunch of food leftover from the meeting so I figured I'd bring you some." 

"Too kind," Louis says, taking the bag from her. He's aware of Harry's slightly confused eyes glued to them.  _What are you thinking?_ Louis wonders. He bites his lip and gives her a knowing smile as she sits at the counter next to Harry. 

"Who's your friend?" Perrie asks, completely casual, addressing Harry with a pretty smile along red lips. "Hey, I'm Perrie." 

Harry smiles, but it's a weird balance between starring at her like he's happy she's there and like she's got some deformity that only he can see. "Oh. Um, hi. I'm Harry." 

Perrie's eyes widen. She's a brilliant actress, Louis commends her. " _The_ Harry?" 

Louis bends down, pretending to stock shelves.  

"You've heard about me?" Harry asks incredulously.  

Perrie laughs. "I suppose you could say Lou has a new story about this mysterious  _Harry_  whenever he gets home, it's good to put a face to the name." 

Louis catches Harry's smile faltering slightly when he stands back up, but he doesn’t know what it means, and settles for shrugging nonchalantly. "Harry's my best customer." 

Perrie fake-gapes and nudges Harry gently with her elbow. "Not stealing my title are you?" 

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Sorry, I've not seen you here before." 

"No, the service here is shit," Perrie says, and recovers quickly when Harry's expression doesn’t change. "That was a joke." 

"Oh, right." Harry laughs now, not fully though. Louis can't, for the life of him, work out what's going on in his head. He doesn’t exactly  _seem_ swept off his feet or anything.  _Not straight then? Just doesn’t like Perrie? Hm._  

Perrie shares a quick glance with Louis, who is diligently searching for the lid to the milk, but Louis knows that look as:  _what the fuck?_ And yeah. Okay. He gets it. 

"Are you studying?" She asks Harry. 

Harry nods slowly. "Art major." 

"No way!" Perrie says,  _clearly totally super_ impressed. "That's so cool." 

Harry shrugs, biting the corner of his bottom lip. "I guess." 

Perrie looks at Louis again, and then back at Harry. "I'm in journalism, it's... fun?"  

" _I_ , on the other hand, am free," Louis chimes in before this could get any more awkward, screwing the lid onto the milk bottle. "No student loans for this guy." 

Perrie snorts. "Because you plan on working here until you're sixty-five." 

Louis grins, having a mental ' _fuck it'_ moment and leaning on the counter in front of Harry (who is acting weird and Louis doesn’t like it) and grinning directly at him. "Well, it won't be so bad my best customer keeps coming back." 

Harry's cheeks go warmer and he grins back at Louis across the table, shaking his head, as if to say:  _you're an idiot_ in the fondest way possible. Or. Or something.  

Perrie looks between them once, grinning like she knows something they don’t and then she slips out of her seat. "I better head back, give Niall my love, and it was nice meeting you Harry!" 

Harry turns to wave at her. "You too," 

It's only until later on, after Harry has left, that Louis goes to text Perrie:  _thanks for ditching early,_ when he see's her text from earlier and his chest swells a million times in size. 

 _Perrie: dude the heart eyes were sickening. You're in._  

. . . 

"Ask for extra super soldier serum with your frappe?" Harry reads off of the menu board a few days later. 

Louis is still trying to piece together what to do with Perrie's astute observations from their ' _what the fuck is Harry's sexuality'_ experiment. Harry has been in a couple of times since then, and Louis has held back the need to grab him by his stupid flannel and kiss him until their lips are red. He has incredible self-control, he deserves some kind of medal.  

"Huh?" Louis asks, following Harry's gaze behind him. "Oh, its just caramel. Niall saw _Captain America: Civil War_  yesterday. He's still recovering." 

"Oh, I haven't seen that yet, been meaning to." 

"Same. I was going to see it this Friday," Louis looks at him,  _okay okay okay you can do this._ "Do you want to come?" 

There is a pause.  

 _Shit_. 

Harry raises his eyebrows. "With you?" 

 _Shit shit shit shit._  

"Y-yeah. I was going to go with Perrie, but she couldn’t make it. I have an extra ticket?" He blurts out, trying to ease the mood, trying to not freak Harry out, regretting it faster than anything he's said in his life. 

Harry blinks. "Well, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Sure, okay." 

Louis allows himself to smile anyway, even though he isn't sure what it was he just asked. "Okay, cool. Um. So, Friday then?" 

Harry nods. "Friday." 

. . . 

"You fucking idiot." Niall says, after Louis gives him the lowdown that night. 

"I know." 

"Literally the worst way I've ever heard you ask someone out, and this is  _Harry._ " 

"I  _know._ " 

"Why did you say you were going with me?" Perrie chimes in from the kitchen, making her way over to the couch and looking equally as annoyed with Louis. "You made it sound like he was a last resort. I don't even like superhero movies – _don't_ hit me, Niall." 

Louis buries his face in his hands, ignoring their squabbling. "I panicked! I still don’t know  _for sure_ if he's into me, and you know what straight guys are like, they get all weird and uncomfortable. Don’t want him to never come back or anything." 

"If he doesn’t come back when he finds out you want him –  _if_ he's straight – then he's an arse. And I've met Harry, he's the least arse-like person ever." Perrie tells him.  

"No, no, he's wonderful," Louis says, disgruntled. "I just... I'd like this to go nicely. It's not just about getting his dick in my mouth or anything. I actually  _like_ him." 

They both stare at him. "Whoa. This is serious." 

"A little bit, yeah." 

Perrie settles in closer and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Lou, I'm serious. When we conducted our... experiment," she shakes her head at the word, "he definitely looked like he wanted you as much as you want him. Not even taking the piss, I swear." 

Louis looks at her. "But have you  _seen_ him?"  _Yes. Yes she has. "_ He's like some modern god, fuck." 

Niall lifts his head up from the armrest. "If you're seriously going for the ' _he's out of my league'_ thing then I'm going to slap you." 

"Right. Okay. But even if that weren't the case, he's still  _attractive._ What if he's got some girlfriend he's neglected to mention?" Louis frowns at the thought. "She probably studies marine biology in Australia or summat. And they write actual letters to each other and he skypes her from his art studio. She probably had like... a dog that they chose together. Called Baxter. Or Thor. He likes Marvel." 

Perrie gives him a dead look. "Louis, that’s stupid. And I have a way about these things, if anything, he has a  _boyfriend_ he's neglected to mention." 

He gives Perrie the finger, because well, that’s just not possible.  

"And besides," she continues. "Why would he never mention him to you if you guys have been having coffee dates every fucking day? Yeah, Niall tells me these things." 

Louis groans. "I don’t know, it's all part of some sick joke." 

Perrie sighs. "You do realise how melodramatic and paranoid you sound, right?" 

Louis rolls his eyes. Melodrama and paranoia are his strong suits, what does she expect? In his defense, this is entirely an attempt to not get his hopes up so that it isn't as crushing if it all goes to shit. But he might also be entertaining the possibility, deep, deep, down, that they might be right. Possibly. 

. . . 

"Liam. LIAM. _"_ Harry shakes Liam shoulders while he's lying in bed. 

Liam startles awake, sitting upright and blinking several times. "What? What? What's going on?" 

"I need help. I'm going to see _Civil War_ with Louis." Harry says. 

" _Civil War_? I definitely want to see that." 

"Well you aren't coming with me," Harry tells him. "Didn’t you hear the last part? I'm going with Louis." 

Liam finally gains full consciousness and smiles fondly at him. "Louis? Like, pretty coffee shop barista Louis? The guy you've been spending all of your time with that I still haven't met?" 

"Yes." 

"As in a date? Good for you man!" 

"That’s the problem," Harry says mournfully. "I don’t know if it is. He sort of just asked me to go with him because he had a spare ticket and... his possible-friend, possible-girlfriend bailed, so I don’t think it's a date. I  _want_ it to be a date. But I don’t know if he does. I feel like... like I know so much about him but we've never talked about what each other is into, you know?" 

It's true, Harry hadn't meant for it to get this bad. He literally started getting his coffee at that Starbucks because the café closer to his flat closed down, and the atmosphere of a coffee shop just happens to be calming when he's sketching.  

And then he saw the hot barista behind the counter, always radiant and vibrant, smiling at  _everyone_ like they all meant something to him. Harry had tried to time his arrivals so that Louis would serve him and it just never happened. He didn’t  _mean_ to bump into him that day, he definitely didn’t mean to cause him to drop everything he was carrying, that was embarrassing. He was going to talk to him though, when that happened, ask him out or _something_. He really was. But hey, the world works in mysterious ways. 

He definitely didn’t expect to spend so much time with him afterwards, but Louis is impossible to get rid of apparently, and that's perfect in Harry's case. His only problem is the whole 'asking him out' thing never happened, because Harry had honestly just come to the conclusion that Louis would be the one that would say it if he wanted it to happen. And then there's Perrie. And he doesn’t really know what to do about that. Ugh.  

Liam yawns once. "Anyone would date you man, you're great." 

Harry frowns. "Not helping." 

Liam sighs and props himself up on his elbows. Yes, Harry might have just woken him up after he worked the night shift. He'll make up for that later. This is urgent. "Look, there are a set of things people  _do_ on dates, I mean, I don’t know how it is with gay guys but there are  _things._ " 

"Liam, you're gay. You're dating Zayn." Harry points out. 

"We never went on dates, seriously, can you imagine Zayn on a date?" 

"True. Anyway, continue." 

Liam scrubs a hand over his face. "Right, so there are sort of... rituals, I suppose, which a date entails. For instance, he'd usually pay for everything." 

Harry just frowns further. "Yeah but... but he already  _had_ the tickets, and this Perrie girl lives with him, and what if we get food and it's not a date and I seem like a dick for expecting him to pay." 

"Then don't get food." 

"But if it is a date then he'll think I'm just there for the movie, not the social aspect of it, AKA: the date part." 

Liam flattens his palm to his forehead. "Christ, you're complicated," he grumbles. 

Harry glares at him reproachfully. "Liam.  _Help._ " 

Liam gives up on trying to go back to sleep and sits up properly now. "Look. There's nothing you can do until the night, just find a nice balance between the two and see where it ends up, if it's a date, there will be signals and you will just  _know._ And if you're still unsure, go to the bathroom and call me. Okay?" 

"Okay," Harry responds sadly.  

And okay. 

Harry can keep it together until Friday. 

. . . 

By the time Friday rolls around, Louis has worked himself up into a nervous panic. It's completely ridiculous, because he could just be panicking over a completely platonic outing with a friend. 

Luckily, Harry doesn’t come in on Thursdays and Fridays so Louis hasn't seen him since he vaguely asked him out, though they have been non-stop texting, because it's somehow easier and less confusing to talk to him when he isn't all caught up in his face and general physical being. 

After countless outfit changes, Louis is once again standing in front of Niall and Perrie, holding his arms out in front of himself. "So, how do I look?" 

They both nod in approval. "Perfect," Perrie says. "Like, you're tidy enough that it could be a date but casual enough that it could just as easily be two dude-pal-bro-friends hanging out." 

Louis nods once. "Good. Okay.  Now all that’s left to do is... go on the actual date." 

"Possible date," Niall chimes in. 

"Right, possible date." 

His phone vibrates when he's in the middle of looking for his shoes, and his heart leaps into his throat when he see's its from Harry. 

 _Harry: hey, Lou. Just got out of class, heading over now. See you soon!_  

Attached at the end is a string of different smiley emojis –– because Harry has displayed a certain degree of over-excessive emoji-use –– and one pink sparkly heart. Louis finds it endearing. 

"He attached a heart at the end," Louis says to Niall and Perrie, who have already reverted their attention to the TV screen, how dare they. "What does that mean?" 

"Down to fuck, for sure," Niall says causally. "I don’t know a lot of straight guys who would send hearts to other guys. You know, on account of their ego." 

Louis agrees, but looks to Perrie for validation anyway. She just nods conclusively. "Definitely down to fuck." 

Louis' insides are dancing right now. 

"Are you going now?" Niall asks. 

"I guess," Louis says. "I might pass out when I see him though, so like. Be ready to pull me out of there." 

 _"Dramaaatic._ " 

Louis doesn’t even argue, because his nerves are about to eat him alive and it's all entirely true.  

With that little courage he has left, he replies to Harry's text. 

 _Louis: can't wait. First time seeing you out of the coffee joint, let's hope you don't transform into someone else out in the real world._  

He gets a reply almost straight away, and yeah, okay. Louis is completely gone for this boy. 

 _Harry: oh shit. Wish you hadn't said that._  

 _Louis: strange child. As long as your legs are still there I guess I'll be fine._  

 _Harry: you only want me for my legs. I knew it._  

 _Louis: you got me ;) see you soon._  

 _. . ._  

Harry has to pinch himself in the arm when he see's completely heterosexual Louis walk into the cinema that evening. He was already stressing enough –– and freaking out to Liam about the use of the 'winky face' –– he wasn't even ready to actually  _see_ him.  

He's only ever seen Louis in the black button-down that all the employees wear, he hadn't begun to imagine how he would look outside of work. He's still so unfairly gorgeous, in a plain white t-shirt that reaches low around the tops of his thighs and hangs beneath his collarbones, Harry can see the faintest outline of tattoos along his chest.  

He swallows heavily. Fuck. Okay, now to work out what this actually  _is._  

"Hey, Haz," Louis says, smiling wide, waving. 

Harry catches his breath just barely. "Louis, you look...hi."  

 _Oh hell._  

Louis grins, shaking his head in amusement. He gives Harry a quick once over and Harry thinks he might pass out. "Love the shirt, you scrub up nice." 

Harry looks down at his plain button-down. "Thanks," his throat has gone completely dry, throwing off his plan to seduce the pants off of Louis before the night is over. He's definitely already ruined it. 

"So, shall we?" Louis nods towards the food booth where an employee is pretending not to be playing on their phone.  

Harry coughs. His brain is already going fuzzy, great. "Uh, yeah. Yes." 

Louis smiles, clearly amused and walks ahead. "Do you like popcorn?" he asks when they get to the counter. "We could share one?" 

"Yeah. O–okay." 

Louis leans on the counter, body facing Harry and Harry has no idea what he's thinking but – oh fuck. It's happening. The awkward  _why the fuck would I pay for everything?_ Oh god. Harry quickly slips out his card and slides it into the EFTPOS machine. 

"I could have paid, I don’t mind." Louis says, looking confused.  

 _Oh bloody hell._  

"I didn’t – I wasn't sure. You paid for the tickets," Harry tries to reason. 

Louis just laughs and shakes his head. "You're a weird one. I'll have to buy you dinner afterwards to make up for it yeah?" 

Harry's breath catches. Okay. This is good. "Sounds like a plan." 

With their popcorn, Louis fumbles the tickets out of his ridiculously tight pockets and Harry should not find that as attractive as he does. He can't wait until they're in the dark cinema, his cheeks are definitely burning red. 

. . . 

When Louis follows Harry into the cinema, the first thing he notices is that it's nearly completely empty. Oh god. There's just one couple down the far end leaning on each other in a way that can't be comfortable and a guy on his own, right in the front row, his face lit up by the glow of his cellphone. 

He checks their seats on the tickets and guides Harry to their row, a finger hooked in his belt-loop just 'cause. When they sit down, Harry sets the popcorn between them and props his feet up on the seat in front of him.  

"There's no one here," Harry points out. He doesn’t sound annoyed, just curious.  

"Are you kidding?" Louis says, pointing towards the people down the front. "There's the dude who's probably seen this ten times and lost all of his friends in the process, and Mr & Mrs 'lets suck each others faces off and make terrible noises that the rest of the cinema can hear'," 

Harry snorts a laugh, probably louder than he intended because said people break away from their kissing to look at them. Louis presses his lips together, trying not to laugh and flattens a hand over Harry's mouth until he stops giggling. 

When he drops his hand, he gives Harry a serious look, grinning wide. "Are you good?" Louis asks. "You have the best laugh, Haz." 

"I do?" 

"Yup. It's a fact." 

Harry doesn’t look impressed at all. "Well then you have the best smile." 

Louis raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Is it a competition? Because that’s just not possible, you'd win everything. Best eyes, best hair, best lips," he pauses, smirking. "Best dimples." 

Harry blushes, and Louis resists the urge to kiss him right there. "For the sheer fact that you don’t have dimples, you win everything else." 

"How  _dare_ you?" 

"It's the truth, I can't help the truth." 

Louis shakes his head, grinning to himself. The opening previews start and Lonely Guy puts his phone away. Louis reaches for some popcorn the same time as Harry and their hands brush and it should have been awkward but Harry just laughs despite himself. Louis decides already that this is shaping up to be the best possible-non-date he's ever been on. 

. . . 

About an hour into the film, Louis has discovered he's never felt so distracted during a _Marvel_ movie in his life, especially since he has actually been excited to see this one. But he's only half paying attention because every time Harry even moves, Louis is suddenly acutely aware of it. Like his senses have been heightened in the worst way possible, because the playful banter stopped when the movie started and the awkward confused tension settled over them again. Normally, on a movie date, he'd already have a hand on the guys thigh, or even using making out as a distraction instead, but he still doesn't even know if this is a date. Fuck. 

Harry just nods when Louis excuses himself to the bathroom, slipping out of their row casually and darting towards the toilets with haste, dialling Niall's number before he's even made it in there. 

 "Louis? Calling already?" Niall says when he answers the phone.  

Louis leans against the wall facing the cubicles. "This is the best and worst experience of my life." 

"Why?" 

"He looks fucking incredible, he's wearing these jeans that should be  _illegal_ and he's being all cute and shit. But I still don't know what this  _is._ " 

"Does he look dressed up?" Niall asks.

"I think so? But I've never seen him outside of a 'studio day' so I don’t know what his usual wardrobe is like when he's not covered in charcoal and paint." 

"Oh, Lou. Just got to power through," Niall says, unhelpful as ever. "What part are you up to in the movie? Do you like it?" 

"I've barely been paying attention, I might have to go again afterwards. A weird guy was reading something to Bucky out of a book while he was locked up?" 

"Dude, get back in there! You're missing all the best bits!" 

"Oh but forget my mental breakdown." 

He can  _hear_ Niall's eyeroll. "Louis, you are the most dramatic –– look, you're not making out with him while you're crying to me in the bathroom are you?" 

"How did you know I was in the bathroom?" Louis asks.  

"Classic first date hiding place. Anyway, get back in there, and make the whole 'arm over the shoulder' move or some cliché date shit like that." 

"Are you serious? That’s a stupid idea." 

"Funny. Sounds like I'm the only one  _with_ any ideas." 

"Ugh. Fine. Goodbye you shit." 

"Knock 'im dead, Lou." Niall says before he hangs up. 

When Louis works up the courage, he walks back to his seat to see that Harry has shifted his position slightly. His feet aren't up on the seat in front of him, but on the floor, which is almost worse, because his thighs are spread a little and Louis might die. 

Harry offers a small smile when he sits down, god, he's so gorgeous. 

Louis reluctantly looks away from Harry, back at the screen. Paul Rudd is there now, okay, he's definitely going to have to see this again because he thinks he might have missed a chunk of the storyline.  

Harry's arm shifts on the armrest between them when Louis settles his down, and now their forearms are pressed together, and Louis doesn’t know how this is suddenly making him feel and unnecessary amount of nerves when they've literally been closer than this in the time they've known each other. It doesn’t make sense, and yet, with the unspoken air between them and Louis possibly misunderstanding the entire situation, it makes a boatload of sense. 

Niall's voice rings in his head, because right, he literally has no other idea what to do with this situation. He glances at Harry in his peripheral, and his eyes are fixed agead, fingers tapping at his thighs oddly, biting down on his lip absentmindedly. 

Okay, so he's just got to do it. Just stretch his arm over, slowly, casual as fuck and – 

"I have to use to bathroom." Harry says, practically jumping out of his seat and racing down the row. 

Louis drops his arm back down, his shoulders slumping. Oh brother. 

. . . 

In the bathroom, Harry checks that the stalls are empty –– which, of course they are. It seems to be the day when no one goes to the cinema except for couples who like to eat each others faces and lonely men –– before he pulls out his phone and dial's Liams number.  

Liam answers after one ring. "Wow, over an hour. I'm impressed." 

"Liam!" Harry whisper-shouts. "I have no idea what to do! We're just sitting there, nothing's happening." 

"Did you get food?" 

"Yes. Popcorn." 

"Did he pay for it?" 

Harry cringes at the memory. "I kind of forced my card across before he could say anything, I didn’t want it to get awkward." 

"Jesus, Haz." 

"I  _knoow._ " 

"Look, I have to go check on the chicken but I'm putting Zayn on, stay calm, you'll get through this." 

Harry doesn’t breathe in the few seconds it takes for Liam to hand the phone to Zayn. 

"Hey, man." Zayn answers, annoyingly casual as ever. 

"Zayn," Harry says. "Zayn, he's so pretty and I'm dying." 

"Fuck you sound like you're in high school." 

"I wish I were, High School Harry didn’t have this much trouble with boys." 

"High School Harry was desperately single if I remember correctly." 

Harry frowns. "Shut up." 

Zayn chuckles lightly. "You'll be 'right man, Louis likes you." 

"How do you know?" 

"Psychic." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "What do I do? I need exact instructions or I'll fuck it up." 

"Alright," Zayn says, and Harry hears shifting on the other end which means Zayn's getting ready to say something important. "When you walk back to your seat, make sure you come in from the side where you'll have to go past him to get to it. Using your big clumsy feet, trip over, right onto his lap, catching yourself on him. If he looks confused and says it's no big deal then okay, it's not a date. If he looks like he's in hell because he's just popped a boner, then you're in." 

Harry is momentarily stunned. "You're a genius. Wow." 

"I know. Oh and hey, if you guys stop for food before banging, pick me up some dumplings from that Chinese take-out place I like, you know how I feel about Liam's chicken." 

" _Zayn–"_  

 _"_ Have a good night!" 

Harry puts his phone back in his pocket and clasps his hands around the edge of the sink, starring at himself in the mirror. 

 _You can do this._  

He attacks his hair to reach the perfect amount of dishevelment, and inhaling a deep breath, he makes his way back. 

. . . 

When Louis finally catches Harry coming back, he has to start readying himself for another sorry attempt at making The Move, because that was honestly the most pathetic thing he's done in his life and the second time will for sure be successful. It's a foolproof date move, and Louis refuses to fuck it up again. 

He tries not to stare when Harry walks back, but it's hard –– even with Spiderman on the screen, Louis' Superhero alter-ego –– because Harry always walks like he's on a catwalk or something. It's stupid. Harry's stupid. Louis wants to kiss him everywhere. 

He's about to shift his legs back for Harry to pass, when he gets distracted by the strange look on Harry's face. A mix of determination and something else he can't pin. 

With an "oops," Harry trips on his own feet, stumbling completely like a clumsy giraffe, and it's the cutest thing Louis has ever seen – that is, until Harry lands on his bent knees in between Louis' legs, his hands catching himself on Louis' upper thighs ––  _literally ––_ his warm palms burn through Louis' jeans and he gazes at Louis with wide eyes. Louis' breath hitches, and he can instantly feel himself getting hard, so close to Harry's face,  _this really isn't fair holy fuck._  

Harry doesn’t even move straight away, which – Louis won't ever be able to catch his breath, holy  _hell._ Harry's just. He's just looking at him. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Harry finally whispers, cheeks red. He scrambles to his feet, slowly though, and Louis can still feel his hands on him when he moves them away and sits back in his seat.  

Louis just offers a weak smile in response, because  _what the hell oh my god ––_  

"What did I miss?" Harry asks airily.  

"Uh–" Louis clears his throat. Twice. "Spiderman. 

. . . 

Harry can't believe it. 

Did Zayn's plan actually work? Shit. Louis might have actually been  _aroused_ by Harry's attempt at tripping –– he definitely didn’t  _actually_ trip after trying to think so hard about how to convincingly fake-trip –– and landing directly in front of Louis' lap, between his legs. It took everything in Harry's willpower to keep it together when he was in that position. Definitely the hardest thing he's had to do in his life – pun intended. 

"What team are you on?" Louis asks, his voice a little hoarse, and Harry's attention returns to the movie.  

"I have a soft spot for Buck so I have to be team Cap," Harry says. 

"Yeah, Bucky is a sweetheart." 

Harry grins. "Definitely. And not just because Sebastian Stan is hot. His, um – his character is important too." 

Louis pauses, clearing his throat. "Oh, right, yeah, of course. But Seb being hot does help." 

Harry definitely chokes. "He was my phone wallpaper for weeks after  _The Winter Soldier_ came out," 

Louis laughs quietly and slips out his own phone, quickly giving Harry a glimpse of his own wallpaper, which is indeed a picture of Sebastian Stan. "We are literally the same person." 

Turning the brightness way down on his phone, Harry texts Zayn:  _think I just came out to him through Sebastian Stan?? Also a++ for your plan. I love you._  

 _Zayn: told you! U can do this. Next step should totally be kissing him, tho he'd probably let u suck him off in the middle of the cinema._  

 _Harry: I think that’s illegal?? :(_  

. . . 

With a little under an hour left of the film, Harry is beginning to panic. He's been trying to plan out how he would go about asking Louis out for a month, and now he doesn’t even know what's going on, and he's  _right there –_ the universe hates him. That's what it is. 

Fuck. Okay. What has he got to lose? If anything, he can just run out of the cinema and never go back to that Starbucks again, right? 

Right. 

He leans over the arm rest a little, closer to Louis. "Hey, Lou?" 

Louis looks at him. "Yeah?" 

"I was wondering– 

They both lean in closer at the same time and the half-full bucket of popcorn tips over onto Harry's lap and spills over his jeans. 

"Oh shit." Louis says, catching the bucket before it hits the ground, he snorts a laugh. "Jesus, sorry." 

Harry chuckles as well. Of course. Of fucking course this would happen. "No, it's okay." 

"Here, let me–" Louis gets onto his knees in front of Harry and start brushing the popcorn off of his lap and into the empty bucket. 

"Louis," 

Louis isn't looking up at him, eyes heavily focused on getting this popcorn off of his lap. He keeps his hands running over Harry's thighs even when there's no popcorn left. 

"Louis," Harry says again, leaning forward and cupping a hand on Louis' face. 

Louis looks at him, keeping his hands flat on Harry's thighs. They lean forward closely, pausing so close that Harry can feel Louis' breath on his lips. But he stops, holding him there and holding eye contact for a couple of seconds. 

Harry looks at him, seriously. "Is this a date?" 

Louis looks at him, and then starts laughing. "Very direct, Styles." 

"Lou," 

"Okay, okay." Louis says, flattening a hand over Harry's. "I want it to be a date, yes. But I wasn't sure if you did so I... I was just going with it?" 

Harry giggles. "Oh my god." 

"What?" Louis grins, leaning in closer, nudging against Harry's hands. "What?" 

"I really want to kiss you right now," Harry says. "So if this wasn't a date and I completely got the wrong idea then you can tell me to stop." 

Louis breathes against his mouth. "I'm not going to tell you to stop." 

"Okay," Harry breathes. "Okay, good." 

"God, come here," Louis cups the side of his face and pulls him into a searing kiss, their mouths crushing together desperately, kissing him hard. His lips are plush and warm, opening to let Harry in. A moan escapes him, at the sheer feeling of  _relief_ that this is finally happening. That he's finally kissing Louis. He slides his hands into Louis' hair, tilting his head and having to lean further down to press himself to Louis because how they're sitting just isn't allowing for  _enough._  

"This doesn’t look comfortable for you," Harry finally says in a ragged whisper, breaking apart enough to fully take in Louis kneeling in front of him. 

"I'll survive," Louis says, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

"I think–" another kiss to his jaw. "I think we could make this work better in the back of my car." 

Louis goes rigid right then and there, and starts nodding frantically. "Yes. Yes, I think that would work." 

"What about the movie?" Harry asks, glancing behind Louis where a fight scene is happening. 

Louis shakes his head, kneeling closer and leaning his elbows on Harry's thighs. "I was going to come back and see it again anyway. Do you really think I could pay attention with you sitting there?" 

Harry groans and lets Louis take his hand and pull him out of the cinema. 

. . . 

Two weeks later, Louis is lying on Harry's bed while Harry sits cross-legged on the end and scribbles something into a textbook because being an art major is apparently not just painting pretty pictures all of the time. Louis is being helpful by being the shirtless eye-candy to help Harry through these trying times, lying contently in the silver glow of the full moon through the window. All in all, life is good. 

Louis nudges Harry gently with his ankle. “Hey. Do you like food?" 

Harry looks up at him. "A specific type or just food in general? Because I need food to  _live,_ so –" 

Louis rolls his eyes. "Oh my  _god,_ forget it," he joking rolls over onto his side. 

" _No,_ " Harry whines, moving over to Louis and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him close. "Tell me," 

Louis grins, turning to face Harry and stroke the outline of his jaw. "Do you want to get food with me tomorrow night?" 

Harry smiles and presses a kiss to Louis' bicep. "I get food with you every night, perks of being my boyfriend." 

Louis bites his lip as Harry's mouth presses against his throat. "But like. Not just take-out. Like at a proper restaurant. And I'll pay for it." 

Harry pulls back to stare at him. "Oh.  _Oh._ Well in that case. Yes, I love food." 

"Okay," Louis says, running his hand under the hem of Harry's shirt. "Okay, good." He brushes a hand over Harry's thigh, then up to grip his hip, fingertips pressing into his skin. He's breathing hard against his lips, open-mouthed and kissing him slowly. 

Harry pauses suddenly, pulling away a little to look at him. "Wait. So let me just clarify," Louis watches him with arched eyebrows. "This is a  _date_?" 

Louis holds his gaze for a second, and then doubles over with laughter. The mood is effectively ruined but he doesn’t care. He curls a hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulls him in, kissing his cheek, his temple and smiling against his mouth. 

Yes. Life is good. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!!


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